


Residual

by Ceminar



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Drone Season 2015, F/M, Projection, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4223295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceminar/pseuds/Ceminar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>re·sid·u·al<br/>riˈzijo͞oəl<br/>adjective<br/>1.<br/>remaining after the greater part or quantity has gone.<br/>"the withdrawal of residual occupying forces"</p>
<p>noun<br/>1.<br/>a quantity remaining after other things have been subtracted or allowed for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Residual

It wasn't her.

Those thoughts ran round and round the pan of The Grand Highblood as he looked down at this... Well...

Fake.

Too small. One of his massive hands could crush her entire upper half if he wasn't content caressing her instead. Her hair was too short, kept under that stupid blue cap, not long and free as the troll he was familiar with. Even the horns weren't just right. Not as pointed, nor as thick.

But the eyes... The eyes had that fierce, fire determination he knew. The way she carried herself through his lands (though, admittedly, no one knew they were his). How she stalked her prey, killed them swiftly, wasted nothing was so familiar that he was willing to overlook her faults. To overlook how she wasn't exactly HER. The troll he wished he could have made his. For she would have been a lovely Disciple of his Church.

Ah, running his clawed thumb down her back, the Highblood couldn't help but imagine how close their purrs would sound. Would his Disciple, his sweet kitty bitch, have tasted as sweet? Would her cries for him have been as full of longing as this one when he drug his tongue across her nook, holding her with more care than he held anyone bar his past moirail?

A shudder ran through the giant at the thought. How this little fake clung to his hair, how he worked his tongue into her, twisting and turning it, lapping at her juices as she mewled for him. For more.

And how kindly he obliged. How easily the tattered remains of his pants were pulled off, how his dainty little imposter straddled his member, most certainly larger than any she had ever seen, let alone taken. The Grand Highblood just knew that she wouldn't be able to. That she would balk, would try and flee, proving once and for all that she was not his sweet Meulin.

Oh, how wrong she proved him. This... Huntress, as she had introduced herself so long ago, actually grinned at his size, licked her lips before dragging her tongue across the tip, black lips deliciously soft against the mass of flesh, it slid past them, into her warm mouth. The way she lapped at him, belaying her innocent demure, as if that hadn't been lost prior. But oh, how the purple prematerial staining the sides of her mouth didn't make him realize. 

She could be his Disciple.

Eyes half lidded as he watched her work, those bright olive orbs locked on his, he realized that there were enough similarities to pass her off as the Huntress of his daydreams. This was no fantasy, grown over sweeps of isolation after The Vast Glub, hidden away in some cave much as he and his moirail had the Mutant and his trolls hiding away, hoping never to be discovered. This sweet young thing was really here, worshipping his bulge with that wicked tongue, gazing up at him like she could see right through him.

It made him shudder. And that shudder caused her to pull back, sticky violet strings still connecting her wonderful lips to his now throbbing bulge. There was no time wasted with her next move, standing to line her warm, drooling nook up with eager purple bulge, nearly tying itself in a knot with need. She lowered herself, quickly at first, gasping at how the tip thrashed inside her, quieting to a low purr as she slowed when his girth got to be too much. But that only stopped her for a moment. With the expertise of one who had handled large equipment before, she adjusted herself, rose, only to lower herself more, to grind down on him again and again until there was a visible, writhing bump on her stomach from his sheer size.

She looked to the Highblood then, almost as if she needed reassurance. He had been silent as he watched, as he experienced her, and those normally bright orbs seemed to plead for him to look at her. Not through her, not at someone else as he had been, but at her. As if she knew what he had been thinking since they started this whole tryst.

This wasn't her. This wasn't The Huntress, The Disciple he wished to steal from the mutant blooded usurper so many ages ago. This was a troll that was giving herself to him. That wanted him, and wanted him to want her. The eyes, the body might be similar but this was a different troll.

This was Nepeta. Nepeta Leijon. And she needed him more than some projected fantasy of something that could never have been.

Green stained corners of his mouth twitching up in a smile, The Grand Highblood brushed a finger down her back, chest rumbling in a purr. Leaning forward, he turned her face up, allowing their lips to meet for the first sincere kiss they would ever share. Nepeta gave a little moan, soon growing louder as she picked up her pace, riding the massive bulge inside her as tongue parted lips, seeking the first clear-panned taste of her without trying to find hints of someone that wasn't there.

And it was a borderline miracle. Her taste was wild, almost gamey, but with that undeniable hit of sweetness that was always overlooked because of his futile searching. This sweet kitty felt and tasted as if she had been hatched just for him, guided by the Mirthful Ones themselves in her creation to be everything he would ever want. Ever need.

Lost in the taste of her, the giant troll was only brought back by how erratic her pace had become, how her nook clenched around him and she growled into the kiss that she was close, that she was almost there before reaching her climax and coating his bulge in sticky olive green material. But he had not. Not yet. And that didn't go unnoticed. As Nepeta caught her breath, brow knit in slight confusion, The Highblood told her she would get what she wanted. Won't no way he was gonna keep that away from his cute lil kitty. With a reassuring pat, he gripped her waist with ease, checking that she was still ready to go. Because a wicked motherfuckin kitten like herself doesn't waltz away with just one puny orgasm.

After a moment of shuffling, some breathy giggling as she was handled with that monstrous bulge still inside her, Nepeta found herself looking down at her massive lover as he lay back, deep purple eyes gazing up at her. Though he could have just as easily allowed her to continue riding to her hearts content, The Grand Highblood wished to take this time around to learn her body. As herself.

Slowly, fingers brushed over her skin, barely starting to darken with age. He traced the curve of her neck, down her spine as he counted the vertebrae, stroked her tail. He ghosted over the base of the appendage, where scars from the operation continued to stand out even amongst the others that were scattered across her body from fights and spars and hunts. For a moment, he rested his hand on her waist, smiling as he took inventory of her sounds and expressions, holding her carefully in place before rolling his hips, grinding into her and pulling a surprised gasp from her. He repeated the motion, pulling out inch by inch before pressing into her again, enjoying how she swallowed him up with each movement. He planned on milking this orgasm from her, to build her up slowly before they reached their peaks.

As he did, the smaller troll tried to pull him closer by his hair, mouth open in a pant as his hand moved up her chest now, a claw trailing up her stomach, between the Average-Troll-Palm sized breasts. Here. He leaned forward, letting himself be pulled along so he could wrap his lips around the dark nubs there, biting gingerly as she tried her hardest to take back control, to stop this painfully slow pace. But he wasn't ready yet. Just a little more. Lips moving from breasts to neck, leaving a dark mark there as he caressed her soaked, trembling thighs, he let his pace finally increase, until her entire body was trembling, until she was drooling, breathlessly breathing his name in need.

How she wanted to be filled up. How, again, she was close, ready to cum again, to coat his lap in her wonderful lowblooded olive. The answering growl, how his bulge throbbed at her words were clear signs that she wasn't alone and moments after she cried out his name, walls spasming around him as the familiar feeling of her orgasm pushed him to his own. The trickle of purple material was soon a torrent, spilling out of her nook and splashing back onto his lap as she went still, her back arched and eyes rolled back into her skull. If it wasn't for the soft 'oh!' or how her tongue hung deliciously from her mouth, one would never have guessed she came again just from the sensation of being overfilled. But there was no denying how her body loved every bit of the attention she got.

It took a while for his kitty to come back after that, and The Highblood spent it rubbing her stomach, inflated from using her as a pail, but not painfully so. In fact, it was almost beautiful, the dazed switch of her tail, her low groans as his bulge finally started to recede into his sheath, signaling another splash of material across his lap and a noticeable deflation of her stomach (there was still a bump, but one that could easily pass for a good meal being had). When she finally returned to her senses, Nepeta smiled, blinking slowly at him, sending him cat kisses before curling up on his chest as if the mess meant nothing to her. Tail draped across his waist, she nudged his hand with her head. With a chuckle that rumbled his chest, Grand Highblood obliged her, running a finger from between her horns all the way to the base of her tail as their breathing slowed to quiet purrs, dozing off together.

Nepeta Leijon. Not The Disciple. Not Meulin. But very much his. More so than the other had ever been.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy! Not gonna lie, this is one of my favorite rarepairs, so I hope I did it justice!


End file.
